The Next Unknown

18 - Flipping Through the Past

OoOoO

Hakon was far from a stranger to the royal study; yet, in all his years of service, he had not stood before its doors for this long without knocking. With the queen standing beside him, it seemed remiss to enter ahead of her. She had not moved for a while now.

Hakon waited, staring straight ahead into the darkness of the unlit room.

"Actually, let's go to the gallery." The queen spun on her heels and walked back the way they had come. Then, as if it was merely another evening debriefing, she added, "So, what exactly am I supposed to do with him?"

Following one step behind her, Hakon pretended not to notice her tone of forced nonchalance. "I beg your pardon?"

"In the meeting over the refugees, you said some of Caleb's brothers were trustworthy and tried to persuade me to help them. You were really just talking about Gregory, weren't you? If you're thinking of selling that 'my enemy's enemy is my friend' thing again, just remember that the man you fished from the ocean lost an arm, his fleet, and his daughter. He might not be as helpful as you originally thought."

"I originally thought Your Majesty vehemently opposed the idea that 'a man who kills his own brother could be more trustworthy than the one who killed his father'."

"Did you really remember that word for word?"

"Almost."

The queen approached the staircase. "For the record, I still don't think my decision was wrong. But I have been thinking... I might've shot you down too quickly in that meeting. You were doing your job—rudely, sure, but I see that now. So, um, I'm sorry."

Hakon's eyebrows rose. "May I ask how hard you hit your head?"

"Rude. I got hit and it really hurt, thank you very much. Maybe I'll work on my temper if you do something about your attitude."

"Forgive me for not holding my breath." Hakon descended the steps with care; his cracked glasses distorted his vision, and he had no desire to fall and dislocate his shoulder again. Weselton had truly exhausted him. But reprieve was not possible without first facing his mother, and the possibility of being taken for an intruder—or worse, a ghost—made the queen's company an irrationally attractive alternative.

Perhaps this would be the last time she sought his counsel.

"Gregory was not the only Westergaard I hoped could become an ally. Between him and Aksel, they could have rallied the entire Isles' army into deserting Caleb."

"Aksel?" the queen echoed. "He's the one who challenged Caleb to a duel, right?"

"Yes. It was an irresponsible death."

"Why? Is Caleb so good that Aksel should've known better?"

"The opposite. King Johan notoriously spoiled his firstborn. What few know, however, is that Caleb was coddled for another reason. He lacks the ability to detect pain. Those born with such a condition are susceptible to injuries they cannot detect until it is too late. They can very easily bleed out, or continue moving with broken bones. Caleb is the only Westergaard who did not undergo combat training. I assume Johan did not want to risk losing his heir to a trivial exercise."

"Creepy," Anna muttered.

"Aksel, on the other hand, was a talented swordsman. Though he did not partake in tournaments, many victors journeyed to the Isles specifically to spar with him. Now, how do you suppose a man like that could have lost to a novice like Caleb?

"Oh, I'm sorry—are you trusting me to think for myself again?" It came out as a chuckle, but the smile Anna flashed him did not reach her eyes. "Well, Caleb could have cheated. Maybe he threatened Aksel's wife and children."

"Feasible."

"Or maybe…" She tapped her chin. "Niklas said Caleb and Aksel were really close. Do you think Aksel just… couldn't bring himself to hurt his brother?"

Hence the foolishness of revealing one's weaknesses, Hakon thought. "I see Your Majesty became acquainted with several Westergaard princes in my absence."

"Oh, right; you don't know about that. But yeah—met Niklas. Hate him." She waved a hand dismissively. "He snuck out here under Blavenian colours with this crazy plan to steal Elsa and impress his father-in-law. Elsa put him in his place. Thank God for Councillor Belland, too."

"I see. Earning Iver Belland's respect is quite a feat."

"Trust me, it wasn't easy. He's strict, too; he's been urging me to cut off maritime trade sooner rather than later, in case Caleb breaks through Weselton on land and pincers us with his fleet. I mean, that's unlikely, right? Storm or not, fighting off Gregory would have been tough. If Caleb still plans to attack—which is insane—then it'd be even more suicidal to split his men and battle on multiple fronts."

"Perhaps that is what Caleb would like us to believe."

"Gee. Should've known you wouldn't take my side." Anna fell quiet for a moment. From his angle, Hakon could not make out her expression. "What do you think of Councillor Belland, anyway?"

"He is the reason Arendelle did not fall to ruin before King Agnarr grew into his role."

"So... if he told me to keep an eye on someone, you'd trust his judgement?"

"I would encourage Your Majesty to heed his counsel, yes."

"Over yours?"

"That is up to your discretion, ma'am."

"Are you council folk literally incapable of giving straight answers?" Anna stopped in front of a set of towering doors Hakon immediately recognised. "Never mind; don't answer that. Let's go in here."

He stepped forward to hold the doors open for her. "If it is art you wish to discuss, I'm afraid you'll find me lacking as a conversational partner."

Anna chuckled as she brushed past. "Oh, I know. Remember that time you tried to sweet talk that duchess in Zaria?"

"That was a tactful negotiation."

"Uh, you compared her brushwork to a dog's tail."

"It was a compliment. If you recall, that was what she was painting at the time."

"Sure, but I also recall she looked ready to launch the palette at your face before I stepped in. Admit it—that negotiation would've gone bust without my charm."

Hakon watched her wander around the gallery, greeting the paintings by name. "Is that why we are here? Are you distracting me so the archers can get a clear line of fire?"

Freezing in the middle of a merry wave, Anna whirled around. "You think I brought you here to have you assassinated? God, Hakon—what kind of person do you think I am?"

"The kind to walk alone into a closed room with a man she suspects of treason. Which is, arguably, worse."

"I'm not alone; Joan and everyone else are here. And right back at you—why would you enter this room if you expect to wind up dead?"

"If that is what my queen wishes, who am I to defy her?"

"That's rich. It's not like you've shown any concern for my wishes lately." Anna crossed her arms. "Fine. You want to know why I didn't want to have this conversation in the study? Because ever since that became my office, you've been acting like a… a jerk. Okay? And I get it if you don't think I'm doing a good job, but it's also your job to help me. So maybe if you asked 'your queen' what she's really thinking, you'd see how hard she's trying to be on your side."

Hakon looked at her. The cracks in his glasses fractured her image, intensifying the throbbing at his temple.

On his side, huh?

"Please." The irritation faded from Anna's tone as her voice softened. "I want to trust you again, Hakon. But I need you to help me out here."

Removing his glasses, Hakon pinched the bridge of his nose. The figure standing before him grew hazy. It would be such a simple thing to mistake one person for another; to question his vision rather than the illusion. There was only one way to break free of the cycle.

He put his glasses back on. "In that case, I resign."

Yelana drew the line when she heard Ryder yelp for the fourth time. She found what she needed on the shelf, grabbed her cane, and stepped out into the crisp night. "Show me your hand."

Ryder let out a shriek. His wooden carving rolled from his lap and onto the ground as he twisted around accusingly. "Can you please stop doing that? I'm too young to die."

"That has never deterred you from stupid decisions. Hand."

"Aww. See, Bucky? She totally cares." The baby reindeer lifted his head and watched with curious eyes as Yelana sat down. Ryder presented his right hand, which bore cuts from his sloppy woodcraft. "It's nothing, really. Just a scratch—"

"Other hand."

"What? This is the one I just cut. See? It's blee—"

"Other hand."

Slumping, Ryder reluctantly held out his left hand. He cringed as Yelana pulled it towards her, reverting to the scruffy child whose hands she had smacked countless times for abandoning his chores to play with reindeer. Now, those same hands were larger than hers, strong and calloused.

Yelana prodded at the mottled bruise on his palm, eliciting a woeful hiss. "Sprained?"

"Maybe? I can't bend the little finger. Actually, make that the last two fingers."

"Yet you thought it would be a good idea to handle a knife with this pathetic grip." Yelana opened the container she had brought out and applied ointment to Ryder's hand, none too gently.

"Well, I need to—ouch—finish this commission. It's already late and—ack—the customer paid a deposit."

"What is that?"

"This?" Ryder picked up the wooden block he had been working on. "It's a wolf. Elsa was helping me with it. She's fantastic with—ohsweetmercy, ow."

Tuning out his cries, Yelana continued massaging Ryder's injured fingers. "Not the wolf; I do have eyes. The customer paid a what?"

"A deposit?" There were tears in Ryder's eyes. "It's like a promise to pay the full amount when I deliver the final product."

"So they gave you their word."

"Well, no. A deposit involves money, which I get to keep even if they change their mind. Otherwise, there's no incentive for them to keep that promise."

"Not even shame?"

"That doesn't buy anything. Money does."

"Bah. Shiny metal."

"With Anna's face stamped on one side! Or Elsa's, depending when they were made. Apparently, all the coins should change when they get a new leader, but Anna didn't see the point. Aww, I know, Buck," he cooed, seeing the reindeer's ears perk up. "You haven't played with Anna in a while, huh?"

Honeymaren came charging into the camp. She leaped off the reindeer so hastily that she nearly skidded into the campfire. "Yelana! I just saw—why is this idiot bleeding?"

Ryder miserably held out his thumb. "Hand slipped on the knife. And Yelana's holding my other one hostage. I guess I'll just bleed out."

"You're worse than Elsa." Honeymaren pulled out a handkerchief and pressed it down on her brother's wound.

"Hey—gentle! Yowch! You too, Yelana. Can you ladies please—"

"No." Yelana bent Ryder's swollen fingers to encourage blood flow, ignoring his protests. She did, however, note Honeymaren's sympathetic grimace. "Both of you answer at the same time: how did Ryder injure himself in Arendelle?"

"He tripped," Honeymaren replied at the same time Ryder blurted, "Maren pushed me."

There was a split second's pause as they registered each other's responses. Then it began.

"Excuse me, I had nothing to do with your lack of coordination."

"Pfft! My coordination is way better than your memory. I'm sorry for losing my balance because a crazy lady came at me with a knife."

"And does your spectacular memory not recall that I was the one who protected you? You can save yourself next time."

"'Next time'? Now you're hoping I'll get attacked again?"

Yelana calmly packed up the ointment container. "A crazy lady with a knife. In Arendelle. I see."

Ryder and Honeymaren froze, staring at each other in abject terror. Then it began anew.

"Wait, it's not as bad as it sounds! I just fell and landed badly; didn't even notice until we got back. Anyway, the important thing is—"

"No one got hurt. The woman just wasn't right in the head. Elsa handled it."

"Besides, Bruni and Gale—"

"The Fire and Wind Spirits," Yelana corrected,

"Right. Yes, the spirits. They were on our side, too."

"And you believe that nature takes sides?"

Ryder looked ready to speak, but Honeymaren shot him a look. "Your hand's still bleeding. Do something about it before you catch an infection and knock that one out of commission, too."

Yelana could not remember the last time she had seen Ryder listen to his sister without a word of complaint. He got up and squatted by the stream to rinse his hand, muttering to Bucky the entire time.

Honeymaren glanced at Yelana. "You can say 'I told you so'. You did warn us that Arendelle might not receive us as kindly as Elsa and Anna. We let our guard down… we were naïve."

Naïve. The word dredged up an old memory—of shattered glass, black liquid seeping into the soil, and shocked, green eyes. "It takes naivety to expect anything less than hostility when one ventures into enemy territory. To do it anyway requires bravery. Or sheer stupidity." Yelana glanced at Honeymaren's confused expression, and climbed to her feet. "Forget it. What were you going to tell me earlier?"

Honeymaren shot up, eyes wide. "I almost forgot! It might've been my imagination because it was so dark—but, like, it should be especially easy to see because it's dark—"

"Child, if you don't start making sense soon, I'm going back to sleep."

"Uh, guys?" Ryder called faintly.

"There was light," Honeymaren burst out. "Across the Dark Sea. It only lasted a few seconds—but that's still something, isn't it? Ahtohallan's been completely dark ever since the Nokk went missing."

Yelana frowned. "Did you see any signs of the Water Spirit?"

"Guys? You might want to see—"

"No, but there was an Earth Giant nearby. I saw—felt—it stumble. It must have sensed something. Elsa might have sensed something. We need to tell her. If I leave now and ride hard, I can reach Arendelle in—ugh, Ryder, stop it! You're getting me wet."

Ryder had returned, hands dripping, and was tugging on his sister's arm as he stared upstream. "I think Elsa might already be on her way."

As if on cue, the stream beside the camp froze over. Ice shimmered rapturously in the moonlight.

"Oh," Honeymaren said. "That's new."

"Yelana? Yelana!" A horse burst into the clearing, its rider's dress leaving luminous trails in her wake as she dismounted and hurried towards them.

"She pulls off the flashy entrance way more gracefully than you," Ryder whispered to Honeymaren, earning himself an elbow in the ribs.

Another memory dislodged in Yelana's mind, and for a moment, she saw a different child skipping towards her with leaves in her hair and adventure in her shining eyes. I found something amazing, Yelana—come see!

It distracted her enough that she didn't notice she had automatically held out her arms until Elsa grasped them, pale hair tangled across her equally white face as she doubled over, short of breath. "Vuos and Nuor... I heard them."

OoOoO

It was happening again. Someone was walking away from her. Out of her life. How many times could she allow her subjects to have the last word? She was the queen. It was her duty to investigate Hakon Erling. That was what Councillor Belland had meant, right?

But maybe this had nothing to do with being the queen.

"You knew them."

Hakon halted two steps away from the doors.

Stepping forward, Anna fought to keep her voice steady as it echoed off the gallery's cavernous ceiling. "You met my mother as a child. When you got older, my father asked you to be his aide. You worked with both of them before the gates closed—maybe even after that." She stopped behind him. "Why didn't you tell me you were friends with them?"

"It wasn't relevant."

So it was true.

"They were my parents. You know how much I…" Anna clenched her fists. "You practically grew up with my mother. She was like an older sister to you, wasn't she? Freya called me 'Queen Iduna' when I visited her."

"As Your Majesty is aware, my mother's mind has been clouded for a long time. Your concern is unnecessary. My mother has a maid attending to her needs."

Walls. Again. She was sick of them. "Well, I didn't go there as a maid; I went as Freya's friend."

"You have my eternal gratitude. If Your Majesty will excuse me—"

"I will not."

Hakon did not simply stop this time—he straightened as if called to attention. The way he and everyone else had responded to Elsa, and to their father.

Anna focused on Hakon's crooked glasses; they must have been damaged in Weselton's dungeon. For once, she hadn't been the one to break them. She'd opened a door in his face in one of their first meetings; running late, she had caught him just as he'd given up waiting. Then there was the time she'd tripped and hurtled a dictionary across the library, only to discover that Hakon did not, in fact, have any sort of reflexes whatsoever. Back then, rank hadn't mattered to either of them. Inefficient, Hakon would mutter around her. Effervescent.

How did they get here?

"Freya attacked Honeymaren and Ryder in the square while you were away. Is that relevant enough for you?"

Hakon's brow creased. "Attacked?"

"She took a knife from their stall. Elsa was there so no one got hurt. The maid says Freya already forgot what happened." Anna eyed him. "Is it just me, or do you not look surprised?"

A pause. "This incident is likely to repeat itself if we were to remain here. My mother and I will leave Arendelle."

"Wait, what? No. This—it's not about punishment. I just want to talk. Look, I know Freya didn't mean to hurt anyone. You don't need to leave because of it."

"I believe that is my choice to make... unless Your Majesty wishes to exercise her command?"

"Hakon, I'm not trying to take away your free will. I just... I'm trying to understand."

"It is too late for that," he snapped. "You should have tried to understand before you erected that statue."

At first, Anna was lost. Then it dropped like an anchor in a storm. "The Northuldra," she breathed. "You haven't forgiven them either."

Hakon snorted. It was the closest to laughter Anna had witnessed from him in a while. "Ignorance shows even in your choice of words."

There he was. This was the Hakon Erling she knew.

Anna squared her shoulders and glowered back; with all the distance he had put between them lately, she'd forgotten that he had little height over her. "If I'm ignorant, then it's also your fault for not doing your job properly, isn't it? Why didn't you say anything when I proposed the statue to the council before it was commissioned?"

"Proposed? You informed the council of your decision," he shot back. "You had already made up your mind, Your Majesty."

Had she really missed this side of him? Anna bristled. "Since when has that ever stopped you? I would have listened. You know me better than the rest of the council. The coronation didn't turn me into a different person overnight."

"No. It didn't alter that which has been in your blood all along."

"I'm sorry?"

Hakon looked directly at her. "Did you notice I was not the only councillor who held their tongue in that meeting? How could anyone express doubt over your plans for interracial reconciliation without committing the treason of invalidating the queen and princess' very identity?"

It wasn't a mistake this time; Anna heard him—truly heard him. She also heard Elsa hesitantly saying, 'Anna, Freya may not be the only one who believes that.'

A lump rose in her throat as understanding descended. "Do I disgust you now, Hakon? Because the Northuldra were our enemies, and now you know I'm one of them, too? Is that what this is about?"

"No."

Her chest burned. "Then why can't you look at me? This is why you've been acting this way since Elsa abdicated, isn't it? It's not just that you think she was a better queen—you think neither of us are fit to lead Arendelle."

"I did not say that." His tone was flat. "You are both Agnarr's legitimate heirs and therefore the rightful rulers of Arendelle."

She wanted to run out of the room. Leave. She had the answers she'd wanted. But a queen couldn't just listen to answers she wanted to hear. Hakon had taught her that. "You're right—this isn't about me. It's about Arendelle. If you're really planning to leave… I won't stop you. If you don't want to answer my questions, I won't turn it into an order. But Arendelle is already in enough danger, and if I made a mistake before the war even started, I need help to fix it. The kingdom isn't mine; it's yours, too, no matter where you go. If you didn't care about its survival, you wouldn't have waited this long to resign. So go ahead if you want to keep your secrets—just don't forget you'd also be lying to yourself."

She had managed to say it without shouting, choking up, or begging. Was that good enough? Was she ever going to be good enough?

She saw Hakon's jaw tighten. "What was on your mind when you commissioned the statue? No—before that. What were you thinking when you welcomed the Northuldra?"

Anna frowned. "That it's not about winning land or defending territory anymore. Mattias and Petra survived all that time in the Forest because they learned how to see past differences and get along with Yelana's people. With the mist gone, we shouldn't repeat history's mistakes."

"History," Hakon repeated. "You made a decision based on history without properly taking it into consideration. Incredible."

"I did! The history we were told was wrong. I told you: Runeard didn't go to the Forest to make peace that day. He attacked their unarmed chief."

"I know that. My father advised against it; Iver Belland did, too. I knew that long before you discovered it. My father went on that mission, and the king's greed got him killed. But was it not a Northuldra soldier who delivered the final blow? During that feud, did every Arendellian soldier injured or killed on Runeard's blasted orders not ultimately suffer at the hands of a Northuldra?"

"Yes." Anna tried to keep the pain from her voice. "But the opposite is true, too. Arendellian soldiers hunted Northuldra. If there had only been a proper conversation between—"

"Except there wasn't one, was there? At which point does historical fallacy cease to justify the sorrows of the present? You said my mother didn't intend to hurt anyone. I disagree—I think she had every intention to spill blood. That is what survival meant for her generation. Do you think she feels better because her husband was murdered in self-defence? Was it right? Your Northuldra friends, the merchants—did you ask how they reacted when they were attacked in the square? I expect they also demanded justice for lives ended by Arendellian steel. Whose grief is more valid? Whose pain should yield to the other?"

Anna bit her lip and remained quiet.

"Unearthing the truth does not mean that history gets buried in its place. You said you would not rob me of my free will. Yet many good people struggling to forgive their ancestral enemies became traitors to the crown the moment you decreed the past should stay in the past; that setting aside their prejudices should be as easy as inviting neighbours for a cup of tea. This came days after your sister announced she would start living with the Northuldra; to protect the Forest you keep encouraging us to 'visit'. 'Our lands and people, now connected by love'? Did the two of you honestly expect that to go over like a picnic?"

This time, Anna couldn't hold herself back. "Leave Elsa out of this."

"Impossible. Not even she is exceptional enough to be extracted from history's clutches. Every person in this kingdom bears a past marked by that war. My mother's illness may excuse her. What, then, of those who stood by while she attacked the 'wild ones' of her nightmares? Did they lack a moral compass? Or did they lack the chance to make their own resolutions before their beloved queen gave them no choice? It is a basic equation: would you prefer to order my senile mother to house arrest for the rest of her life? Or ban the Northuldra? I'm sure Your Majesty agrees neither option is fair. My mother and I will leave Arendelle by week's end. Then you will have the peace you desire."

Anna tasted blood. She had bitten open her lip. "If you felt this way from the start… why didn't you tell me sooner?"

Finally, Hakon glanced at her. "I wanted to be wrong for once. I wanted to see if you could convince me that your simple, harmonious vision truly is the key to Arendelle's future. A different path. In my naivety, I withheld counsel and failed my duty as your advisor. So, I resign."

'Hans said you were naïve.'

It always came back to this. She had placed her husband and the kingdom's defence in Hakon's hands, and called it a test. Kristoff was safely home, and Weselton had pledged their support in steel. Everything had gone to plan. But was it all over?

"If Fredrik had died, or if anything had happened to Kristoff in Weselton, we would have fought each other instead of Caleb. Someone told the Southern Isles about our negotiation and tried to sabotage it… was it you, Hakon?"

"No."

It was a simple response. No mounted defence. They both knew it wasn't necessary—because, in the end, it had never been about testing Hakon's loyalty.

Anna was the one who had failed from the start.

"I believe you." She swallowed again. "But I think I shouldn't."

Something flickered in Hakon's eyes. "That would indeed be wise."

"You always have backup plans. Something like, 'if Rudi fails to kill Fredrik, act in Arendelle's best interests so no one will suspect you when you get back'. You could be using Freya as an excuse to leave and go straight to Caleb with everything you know about the kingdom. Which is a lot."

"Plausible."

Anna gave a wistful smile. She'd forgotten how much he infuriated her. "Is that all you have to say?"

"That seems to be all I can say. You are the queen."

"This wasn't meant to be a trap; I really did just want to talk to you. But Mattias never leaves me alone now; the guards just got better at staying out of sight. I'm pretty sure Peder and Linus are waiting on the other side of those doors."

"I see."

The next right thing. Councillor Belland's challenge finally made sense.

Blinking back tears, Anna looked up at the pictures on the walls. Her oldest friends. Safe to trust. "Lord Erling?"

Hakon's expression remained unreadable. "Your Majesty."

I'm sorry.

"I accept your resignation. But I can't let you leave."

OoOoO

"You heard Vuos and Nuor? It's not just a legend?" Ryder made an exploding gesture above his head.

"Stop shouting, simpleton. Here, Elsa." Honeymaren passed her a bowl of hot stew. "Don't worry; Kjekk is resting."

Bucky attempted to sniff the stew and let out an indignant snuff when Elsa raised it out of his reach. "You won't like it, silly," she told him, stroking the fur between his curious eyes until he gave in and laid his head down on her knee.

"Humans tell stories," Yelana said from the other side of the campfire. "When a story's truth becomes impossible to distinguish, it becomes a legend. That does not make the tale false." She looked at Elsa. "Tell us what you heard."

Elsa faltered, and Bucky nudged her hand. "It wasn't the same as hearing Mother's voice," she began slowly. "No one spoke to me. I felt like I was in someone else's memories… in their head."

"Which you believe to be Nuor's."

Was 'believe' the right word?

"I heard someone scream his name. I think..." Elsa pursed her lips as she gazed into the flames. "I think it was his parents. They were afraid of him. He was angry."

"Are you sure?" Ryder scratched his head. "Nuor was the first Fifth Spirit. He's supposed to be the hero who saved the world from his evil brother."

"He was human." Yelana gestured to the bowl in Elsa's hands. "Eat."

Elsa wasn't hungry, but she obediently lifted the stew to her lips. The warmth oozed down her throat and spread—just like the moment Ahtohallan had released her frozen body, sending her plummeting into the Dark Sea.

The Dark Sea.

Elsa choked on her stew.

"Whoa, easy," Honeymaren chided, patting her back.

"The stream, Yelana," Elsa rasped out. "I thought I saw blood in the water. I froze it without thinking, but it still broke through. The same thing happened when I first met the Nokk—it broke my ice each time. This time, the water formed visions. People." It sounded deranged, but Elsa had not grown up under any illusions of normalcy. The less it seemed to make sense, the more certainty she gained. "I saw Nuor. It was him; I'm sure of it."

Ryder snapped his fingers. "Maybe the Nokk was sending you a message!"

Honeymaren sat up straighter. "That might explain why I saw Ahtohallan glowing earlier."

"The last time I sensed the Nokk, it was in pain. This confirms it's in some sort of trouble. I've been thinking about the wrong question all this time… It isn't the Nokk I should be worried about." Elsa turned to Yelana, eyes wide and searching. "I should be focusing on the forces that could threaten a powerful spirit in the first place. That is the legend's warning, isn't it? If I saw Nuor—if he was real—then—"

"Vuos did more than threaten the spirits," Yelana said darkly. "He made their will and control over the elements his own."

Elsa recalled the other figures she had seen in the water: the two men whose faces had eluded her. 'Three drops of blood, a dash of brännvin… and a black sheep.'

"What happened after Nuor became the Fifth Spirit?" she asked.

Yelana poked at the fire with a stick. "The tales vary between the tribes. In some versions, the spirits deemed Vuos' transgression unforgivable, and slew him where he stood. In others, Nuor convinced them his brother was no longer a threat. Vuos was a powerful sorcerer, and Nuor used one of his brother's spells to bind their fates together. He vouched for Vuos with his own life. Vuos was exiled to the south, and the brothers did not meet again before their simultaneous ends."

'Stop'? Who do you think I'm doing this for?'

Elsa would never mistake Anna's voice for another's. Yet, hearing that voice—Vuos' voice—had nearly overpowered the sight of her sister standing before her, calling her name. Brother, her heart had whispered. Then there was the long-haired man the water had shown her. His chilling stare had seemed both hollow and hungry. "What about Nuor?"

"His story is universally agreed upon—Nuor brought humility to mankind. He understood that the bridge between humans and nature could not maintain itself; that he would not be the last of his kind. So, before he passed, he used his powers to leave behind a source of guidance for future Fifth Spirits."

The last detail caught both Elsa's attention and her breath. "Powers? Becoming the Fifth Spirit gave Nuor magic?"

"No; all legends agreed he confronted Vuos and subdued him so the spirits could break free. Vuos acquired sorcery. Nuor, it seems, possessed magic from birth."

Elsa's lips had gone dry. For some reason, the question came out as a whisper. "What powers did Nuor have?"

Yelana looked at her. "How do you suppose Ahtohallan came to be?"

Scarlet auroras. Her father's protective presence behind her while Grand Pabbie reached out to take her small, trembling hand. 'Born with the powers, or cursed?'

Elsa cupped a hand over her mouth and lowered her head so no one could see her first tears landing on Bucky's fur.

'Why did it have to be me?' Nuor's voice had demanded. 'Why is it always me?'

Had Nuor also been afraid to touch the world around him? To be held? Had he ever wondered if the blizzard lurking within was penance for an irredeemable sin he must have committed in a past life? Had he ever sat too close to a blazing fire, wondering if flames could lift the curse? Or had he embraced his powers? Relished them?

All that time, Elsa had thought she was the only one.

"Hang on, let me get this straight," Ryder said. "Vuos wasn't born with magic, right? So if he could find a way to control the spirits, doesn't that mean someone else could figure out how to do it, too?"

Yelana looked up at the starry night. "It was never a question of 'how'," she murmured. "The true question is: why now?"

OoOoO

"You wanted to see me?"

The pitch black crypt remained silent. Of course. It wasn't like the dead could speak back. No one in their right mind would choose to spend time down here. Then again, neither of them were sane.

"Caleb?" Hans called.

Nothing.

Scowling, Hans descended the rest of the stone stairs. As the light from the entrance grew faint, it became impossible to see the next step through the sightless void. But the crypt had been Hans' unlikely sanctuary during the chaos of his father's murder. He knew his way through the dark.

The candle sat in the exact spot the iron basin had once occupied; Hans could tell by the stains his blood had left on the limestone. His left arm seared as if Caleb's knife was still stuck into his flesh.

Hans looked to his right, into the gloom. "Either you stop wasting my time, or I'm leaving."

At last, a low chuckle. "A bold statement. I sent Jesper to find you a while ago."

Hans would sooner throw himself on a sword than divulge the number of bedtime stories he'd had to read to Christian before he'd been able to extricate himself without the little devil erupting in hysterics. "I've done enough of your dirty work for one day. I'm the one who can drown you with one finger."

"Oh, I don't doubt that. You have grown quite capable, haven't you, little brother? Why don't you try it? Dispose of me now, and the throne is yours. That was your motive for summoning the Water Spirit, was it not?"

Hans ground his teeth and stomped towards Caleb's voice. "I told you to stop—" He broke off as his eyes adjusted to the dark. "What the hell happened to you?"

The king sat slumped against the wall, his once-pristine garments now tarnished. His hair was a greasy snarl, as if he had dragged his hands through them a hundred times over.

Hans tried to recall the last time anyone had reported seeing the king outside of the crypt. "You stink. Jesus. Have you been holed up down here for an entire week?"

Caleb raised his head. Flickering candlelight intensified the gaunt shadows of his already-angular features. "That shouldn't surprise you. We are connected." He limply raised his right arm, flashing scars that matched those on Hans' left. "Is your mind too occupied with other voices to accommodate your dear brother's?"

It had nothing to do with it, and they both knew it. It was a taunting reminder that, while Hans' mind was bare to his brother's access, Caleb's mental walls remained infuriatingly impenetrable.

"I could show you how to break through it. You need only ask."

No. He wasn't asking that blasted voice for a damn thing.

Hans' foot knocked into something that rolled across the stone with a startlingly loud rattle. Narrowing his eyes, he went back for the candle and illuminated the area around Caleb. Several days' worth of food trays littered the floor—along with countless wine bottles.

"Are you drunk?" Saying it aloud made it more absurd. Even their parents had assumed that Caleb's inability to feel pain somehow extended to an immunity towards alcohol. Caleb could outdrink even the twins.

"I am as cognisant as the future King of Scandinavia needs to be."

"You should check that confidence. Rudi's back. He and Runo bungled their missions so badly that Arendelle and Weselton got stronger instead of weaker. And your idea of damage control has been to hide down here. Drinking."

"I have been doing far more than that."

"Let me guess: you won't bother elaborating. You haven't shared any of your plans. We'll win this war with blind faith. Marvellous."

Caleb shook a bottle to check if it was empty. "Blind faith indeed. Do you remember your other promise, Hans? The one you made to me when you begged for your life?"

Hans' irritation faltered as he fought to keep his expression neutral. "Of course."

"And?"

"… And what?"

He heard the clink of metal on glass as Caleb uncorked the bottle. "Can you do it?"

"I got the Water Spirit under control, didn't I?"

"That was not the question." Caleb opened his hand to reveal the gold pendant that usually hung around his neck. "I know you have seen inside this. Through my mind."

There was no hiding it. Hans nodded. It was the one crack in Caleb's wall: a woman grinning at him—no, at his brother. Through Caleb, Hans knew the fragrance of her dark, wavy hair; the twinkling intelligence in her brown eyes; the sadness of her laughter.

"Can you do it?" his brother asked a second time.

"I told you: we need the other spirits."

"Ah, yes. That is the intriguing part." There was a pause as Caleb drank. He used the bottle to gesture to something on the floor beside him. "Did you ever finish reading that?"

Hans stiffened as he recognised the ancient tome. Caleb must have held onto it after the ritual.

"I assume you stopped reading when you came across its first promise of power. Understandable. A mighty Water Spirit at your command? It must have blinded you."

"What are you getting at?"

"Without the wisdom in this journal, that reckless ritual would have consumed your poor soul. I was stunned. Blood bonds? Enslaving powerful spirits to your will? Surely it was all a work of fiction. And yet, here we are." Caleb thumbed through the yellowed parchment. "I wondered what other delightful forms of black magic might dwell within its pages. It was quite the rapturous read; far easier to consume now that our bond affords me the luxury of understanding its contents without translation. Imagine my confusion when the journal went into detail about the remaining spirits—and ended there. There was no mention of the spell you described."

If he had not followed the voice to the library—if he had just stayed hidden in the crypt or escaped on the boat with Sofia—where would he be now?

"You would be afraid. Tormented by your cowardice."

"Well, I didn't learn it from that mouldy book," Hans growled. "The voice told me it could be done."

"The voice I conveniently cannot hear."

"If you don't believe me, then you can drag the bloody water horse out of me, round up the other spirits, and try it for yourself."

Caleb let out a laugh so abrupt that it prickled the hairs on Hans' neck. "Oh, I believe you. I do not need an adventure. These little experiments are enough."

Experiments. Something had not sat right with Hans since he had stepped foot in the crypt. "What have you been up to? You told us to recover those corpses and bring them down here. Where are they? And what the hell is this?" Hans ripped open his shirt to reveal the ringed gashes on his chest, still raw and throbbing. "Don't go carving yourself up for no reason when we're… linked."

"Have I ever done anything without reason?"

Yes. Sadism.

Hans knew Caleb had heard it when the king's raspy laugh filled the chamber. "Do not fret; I would not waste your efforts. You did well today." He pointed past Hans. "They are all here."

Hans turned and raised the candle, shedding light on the archway that led further into the crypt. Nothing but darkness. "Surely you don't expect me to believe you laid them to rest like the benevolent king you are."

"Leadership comes in different forms, as most things do—victory and defeat, for one. Life and death, for another." Caleb's head fell back against the wall. His face looked almost peaceful as he clutched the pendant to his chest. "Did you know this crypt is larger than the castle itself?"

He did know. Lars had told him the first year he had been old enough to make the trip and pay his respects. 'Why would the first king build a larger space for the dead than the living?' Hans remembered asking.

'This is why you'd make an awful historian. Listen, Hans. When we view possibilities through a biased lens, we can only see the world as we think it should be seen. For example, have you considered that perhaps—'

"This crypt existed long before Sigfred built his empire atop it."

It was the exact response Lars had given him twenty years ago. Except the voice did not belong to Lars.

A chill shot down Hans' spine. How do you know that?

"I told you: I know all that happens on these islands."

Caleb raised the bottle to his lips. Red wine sloshed onto his silk shirt. "Did you also know that our dear father was not the first king to take an interest in this strange book? I found several other translations, all incomplete. A coincidence? Or is it possible that you were not the first to be guided towards it?"

The voice was a figment of his own madness—that was what Hans had told himself, up until the first time he had heard the voice say 'I'. Even then, he had tried to ignore it. If the voice did not have an identity, then it had no will. If it had no will, then it could not manipulate him. When he had set off for Arendelle to become a king, he'd sworn never to have his strings pulled by anyone else.

"Do you know, Hans," Caleb slurred in the background, "that if you lied to me… if you can't bring her back…" He fell silent.

Whether it ended with a crown on his head or a sword in his heart—his ambitions belonged to him, and only him. He needed no one to credit or blame. To grasp power was to stand alone.

But the power was not his, and he was not alone.

Hans closed his eyes. Why do you know so much about the Southern Isles?

"'Why'?" The voice chuckled. "I am the reason these islands were made."

… Who are you?

The book rustled in the windless chamber, snapping shut beside Caleb's slumbering form with a crash that shook Hans to the core.

"The author."

A/N: Looking back, I've been working on this fic for so long that it's probably been a literal year since the last Elsa and Yelana lore talk. I can only imagine what a chore it must be for you readers to remember what happens in these long chapters. I muchly appreciate y'all sticking around for so long and hope you continue to enjoy this (slow) journey!